A/N: HAPPY HOLIDAYS! Did you REALLY think I would abandon my annual holiday series? Psh.

DISCLAIMER: They're not mine. You'd know if they were. I don't even think they're Dick Wolf's anymore, anyway. Hit it.

12 Drummers Drumming

"What is that?" Olivia yelled, kicking the door closed behind her, her face screwed up in pained wonderment. She looked at Elliot as she headed toward the kitchen, carrying two paper grocery bags. The loud noise made her cringe, her shoulders jerking with every bang and crash. "Seriously, what the hell is that?"

Elliot shouted to be heard as he helped her unpack the groceries. "Dickie!" he yelled. "His friend Rob gave him a drum set!"

Olivia's eyes widened, her mouth curled into an annoyed snarl. "Give it back!"

Elliot laughed, shaking his head. He sighed as he placed a package of steaks on the counter. "It's helping him, ya know? He's getting out his aggression, his tension…" he stopped yelling as the pounding of drums and clanging of snares ceased.

Both of them seemed to relax, relieved, and they shared a look. An understanding passed between them, a look of empathy, and he leaned over to kiss her forehead.

Wordlessly, they began to move around the kitchen, the clang of pots and pans replaced the bang of the drums. The beat of footsteps and chopping knives filled in the space vacated by the beat of sticks against resonant heads. Still quiet, they effortlessly worked with syncopation, a fine rhythm and perfected melody, cooking more than just steak and roasted potatoes.

"Hey," a groggy voice spoke, interrupting what would have been a steamy kiss over an open flame.

Elliot turned as Olivia simply tilted her head. "Hey, kid," he said to his son, offering a sad smile. "How was school?"

"I'm flunking AP Calc," Dickie muttered dryly. "And my Spanish teacher is un toro furioso."

Olivia squinted. "A raging bull?"

"Bitch," Dickie clarified, plopping into a chair at the kitchen counter.

"Hey, language," Elliot scolded.

Dickie grunted in response and shifted in his seat. He didn't move at all, though, when he felt Olivia's hand on his shoulder. He simply repeated, "A raging bitch."

Olivia squeezed his shoulder and said, "Well, you said bull so…maybe pay more attention to her. You know, maybe that would make her less of a bitch." She kissed his cheek and winked at him when he finally turned to look at her. "Do your teachers know what's going on? Have you told them?"

He shook his head. Then, with a groan, he let his head drop into his hands. "My head is killing me. It feels like someone is…"

"Playing the drums in there?" Elliot finished.

Dickie turned to look at his father. "Oh, yeah, actually. Sorry if that bothered you before, I just needed to…hit something."

With a deep breath and dragged out sigh, Elliot nodded. "I know, kid. I feel like that a lot, too." He jabbed a fork into the sizzling steak, lifted it and flipped it, and as the sizzle grew louder, he said, "And I'm glad you found a way to vent, I am, but, uh, maybe move the venting into the garage?"

Dickie laughed. "Yeah, okay," he said with a nod. "Smells good in here." He swiveled his head and attention back to Olivia, who was still standing by him. "You staying for dinner?"

She bit here lip. "I don't…I don't think so. With everything going on, I don't know if I should…"

"We have to get used it, don't we?" Dickie interrupted. "I mean, Mom and Dad were separated for over a year. We all know he was with you." He blinked rapidly a few times as he decided how to say this. "We were living with her, some of us kinda hoped they'd work things out and we'd all move back here together, but the rest of us…we knew that it was over. Am I angry? Hell yes, but not…not at you, Liv. We live here, with Dad now, and I'm old enough to realize that…whether I'm ready for it or not…it means we live with you, too." He watched her stiffen, and for a moment he questioned it. "Or am I wrong?"

Elliot saw Olivia's discomfort, her unease, and he spoke so she didn't have to. "Liv hasn't moved in," he said, "Yet." He cleared his throat and crossed his arms. "We, uh, we didn't want to take that step until everything was…final. You guys need to adjust to being back here, without your mother, and we all need to figure out how this works. Just you guys, and me."

"And Liv," Dickie said. He looked at his father as if he had given the wrong answer to a very simple question. "We all knew, long ago, that there would never be you…without Liv. When Mom left, we all just figured it was only a matter of time before…well, you know." He tried to slow the beating of his heart, which, he noticed, was rivaling the drum solo he had banged out in his room not too long ago. "What I'm saying, I guess, is…if it would be easier for you if she stayed, none of us would be that uncomfortable with it. She's always been there when we needed her, and now, I think I speak for everyone when I say, we all need her more than we ever have."

Olivia had tears in her eyes; she sniffled as she shot Elliot a look. She saw that he was staring at his son with pride and love in his eyes, and she knew he'd cry, too, if he let himself.

"That's sweet, kid," Elliot said, moving toward Dickie and giving him a half-hug as he sat in his chair.

Olivia turned, feeling almost as if she was invading a profound moment between a father and son. She turned off the heat, confident the steaks were perfectly cooked, and bent to take the potatoes out of the oven. She sighed and smiled when she felt strong arms loop around her waist as she straightened up. "Did he really just say all of that?"

"Yeah, he did," Elliot whispered to her. He kissed the back of her head and closed his eyes. "He grew up," he sighed.

"He's growing up," she corrected, "To be just like his father." She turned her head, over her shoulder, and kissed him softly. "I never thought he'd say anything like that, not about me." She gave a small, short shake of her head. "Not after the, uh, last time we had an actual conversation."

Elliot cringed, remembering the night he told his kids they needed to stay with their mother in Jersey until custody terms were settled. Dickie had taken it the hardest, and he'd glared at Olivia, blaming her, even going so far as to accuse her of suggesting it in the first place, shouting "So you could have the house, and Dad, all to yourself," before telling her he hated her and leaving the living room in a huff.

Of course, he'd apologized the next morning, but the memory still stung, and Elliot knew it was the real reason why Olivia hadn't said yes when Elliot asked her to move into the house, officially.

"Set the table," she said to him, breaking into his thoughts, kissing him quickly one more time.

His memory faded away as he furrowed his brow and flattened his smile. "Please," he sneered. "That's why we have kids," he told her with a wink. He kissed her again, and then moved back a bit as he yelled, "Kids! Dinner! Maureen! It's your turn to set the table!"

She laughed as she heard the kids trampling down the stairs. "They sound like a herd of angry cattle!" she chuckled.

"I think I'd rather hear Dickie play the drums," Elliot laughed.

Olivia rolled her eyes. "I wouldn't go that far," she said, still smiling. She pulled the steaks out of the pan and onto a platter, then lifted it with one hand and grabbed the tray of roasted potatoes with the other. She carried them through the archway to the dining room table, expertly side-stepping Elliot along the way. "You know, there are only twelve days until…"

"Christmas," Elliot interrupted. There was a new light in his eyes, a gleam that seemed to make the blue of them brighter and the whites of them clearer. "I know." He pulled her into his arms and smiled, sighing contentedly as he rested his chin on her shoulder and stared out into the living room at the lit tree. "I can't wait, Liv. Keeping it a secret…it's killing me."

She looped her arms around his, her hands wrapping around the bends of his elbows as he held her in place. She heard the kids shuffling into the room and heard Maureen clanging plates together. "I know it is," she sighed. She let her eyes settle where she knew his had, and she noticed, for the first time, how perfect the tree really was. Elaborately decorated, beautifully lit, brown twill ribbon and silver bells, red bows and every ornament the kids had made from kindergarten to high school, store bought ones that marked special occasions like the birth of each child and their first trip to Disneyland, newer ones that signified Olivia's place in his life, like the shiny metal twin police badges, a customized family of seven snowmen, emblazoned with the kids' names, Elliot's, and her own. At the top, an heirloom angel passed down through generations of Stablers, simple and faceless with broad lacy wings.

She was pulled from her reverie when Maureen bumped against her in an attempt to evenly space out the plates. "Sorry, Liv," the teen said sweetly, moving to the other side as the rest of the Stabler kids sat down.

Olivia looked around, smiling, her eyes pausing on each face, and then, one empty chair. She tilted her head. She turned a bit, and she said to Elliot, who was still holding her, "Where's Eli?"

As soon as she spoke, a loud crashing and banging filled the house, the ceiling light shook and the floor vibrated, and all four older children clutched their ears tightly, especially Dickie who was still nursing his headache.

Elliot ran up the stairs to stop the four-year-old from causing so much ruckus with Dickie's drum set. Olivia laughed to herself. This was her life now, and it filled a void within her that she didn't realize existed. When the silence hit, she sighed and looked back at the table of kids, slowly lowering their hands from the sides of their hands. "Christmas," she whispered to herself.

The day everything that had finally settled would change, all over again.

A/N: Uh-Oh! What? Want more? You know what to do. ;)